Grounds
by CurlyTuft
Summary: Helena and Myka go for coffee. Post 4.15 ("Instinct") with references to other season 4.5 episodes.
1. Chapter 1: Hull

This is crazy. It's the third time I've done this: hopped on a plane for a flight to Wisconsin. Just so I can go get a cup of coffee. I have been flying over 800 miles and spent $500 each time just to grab a $3 cup of coffee with her.

Helena has no idea I've been flying all this way to see her. She thinks I have been passing through or on a case or any number of reasons I would be in the vicinity of where she lives. No one from the Warehouse knows; well, perhaps Mrs Frederic since nothing seems to evade that woman. I keep telling everyone I'm going to a spa or to see my sister, but am always careful to never mention it when Steve is in the room. No need to set off the lie detector.

Every day, I try to convince myself that I am not trying to deceive: I just don't want to talk about it with them. Pete tries the hardest, but I'm not ready to offer up my emotions to him on this. He's trying to be so supportive; however, I'm not entirely ready to lean on him in this matter. I don't expect them to understand how I feel about her. I don't want there to be something else for everyone to worry about. I got this.

I vary it up, either flying in Friday night to ensure I'm there for Saturday morning coffee or Saturday afternoon for a Sunday morning coffee. Most of the time, I fly in Friday night after getting off work an hour early to be ready for my morning coffee with her. It's juvenile, ridiculous and so unlike me to be playing these little games. Then again, I'm not the Victorian inventor and writer playing house in 21st-century Middle America.

This particular Saturday morning, I'm up early. I read, I lounge around, I walk, I take a shower all before I decide to text Helena. I check out of my room, load my small bag into the car and send a text once I am in the driver's seat.

_Passing through. Coffee? Usual place?_

A couple minutes pass. My heart sinks a bit, thinking that perhaps she's away or not interested this time. My mind filters through her past statements about her plans and I am fairly certain she's around today. I listen to the radio, tuning in to find NPR or something that won't be playing sappy love songs that keep reminding me of her.

The phone buzzes 15 minutes after that initial text.

_I'm leaving now. 10 minutes?_

_Sounds good - see you then!_

The five-minute wait in line alone ensures I am going to smell like coffee for the next few hours and what Pete likes to call "deep-fried goodness." Luckily, patrons are only popping in to get some coffee and donuts to go, so there are plenty of tables throughout the shop. Each time we get together, it's here. Turns out, Helena really likes the coffee rolls. When I order my coffee, I take note of the baked goods on the racks in front of me. Just one coffee roll left. Helena's not here yet. I take the liberty of procuring the last one for her. As soon as I get the largest coffee I can get my hands on, I scamper towards a table in the back, but close to a window. My cell phone is precariously placed on the table, face up so I can be aware of each notification.

I spend a good ten minutes watching customers come in and out, listening to the radio, watching the staff poorly sing along to the pop tunes. Occasionally one or two people will still down just to finish their coffee and donuts, but they aren't lingering like me.

Once she appears at the door, opens it and strides in, she is quickly looking for me at our usual table. I would also know the sound of her boots clicking on the tiles anywhere.

"Myka." My name so pleasantly drops from her lips as I stand up, opening my arms to this flustered and hurried woman before me.

"Helena." I say as I envelop her in my arms. Our hug lasts only a moment, but it seems like forever when I take in all the sensations of having her close to me. I have grown to adore her hugs; her arms hold me to her so tightly each time we greet one another. I love the feel of her against me, even though we touch for only a few seconds.

I sit down and Helena turns her attention to the board with the drinks. "Oh, I almost forgot." I thrust the bagged coffee roll towards her. Helena peers inside and smiles. "It was the last one. I didn't want you to miss out."

"Thank you." she says with a grin and gestures towards the counter, silently walking away to go order herself a drink. I'm patient, sipping my own (now dwindling) beverage as I wait for her to come back to the table. I watch her look at the board with all the drinks listed, she looks indecisive over all the options. Helena stands at the counter, waiting for her coffee, fiddling with her necklace. I watch her fingers twirl through the gold chain, flicking up and down. It's curious to see her do that; I haven't seen her touch the necklace for quite some time.

I wonder if she's as nervous as me.

Helena patiently waits for her coffee and comes back over to the table with her drink and some paper napkins. Once she sits down, she adjusts her shirt and brushes something off her wrist. Watching her motions is a delight.

"So..." I trail off a bit, lost in watching Helena tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I follow the motion of her hand all the way from the coffee cup to her ear and back down again to grip her drink. Once she has stopped moving, my eyes shift back to her face. I hold my breath for a moment, quickly hiding behind the fact that I need to pick up my coffee cup yet again as a distraction. She totally catches me, but I could honestly care less. Helena does not appear even in the slightest to be bothered by my focused ogling. "...how's work?" I manage to stammer.

Helena lets out a brief sigh and looks away from me. I can't tell if she is annoyed at my question or irritated at the thought of the work she is doing. "It's good, quiet week though. Only one boating incident."

"Only one?" I laugh.

"I have the distinct impression that once it gets warmer, they will increase. Maybe I will even need an assistant."

I take a sip of my coffee and put it back down on the table. Without much thought, I swipe my tongue across my lips to collect some of the coffee that feels stuck to my mouth. Helena's eyes immediately divert themselves from my eyes to my lips. She's watching me ever so subtly; however, completely obviously looking at me, just as I had done when she tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitches once I finish moving around. She's not doing a very good job of concealing her appeal for my errant tongue, inwardly making me smile.

"How are things back h-?" Helena abruptly stops herself.

Oh God. She can't even get herself to say the word. She falters just from nearly saying "home" to me. I silently let her know that I knew what she was going to say by pausing and then just answering her question. "Yeah, things are good." My head nods without really thinking. I try ignore the fact that she almost said "home." Home. As in me, Pete, the Warehouse, Claudia, goo. Endless wonder. When did I get so sentimental? "Met Steve's ex-boyfriend last week."

Her eyebrows raise as she takes another sip of coffee. "_Ex_-boyfriend?"

"US Marshal." I say and swirl my coffee around again. "Good looking guy too."

"I had no idea."

"That's Steve for you." I chuckle. "We got to deal with some lava in a parking lot in Arkansas."

"Lava? In Arkansas?"

"Yeah. It was an artifact from Pompeii, someone who survived the eruption. I've seen stranger things though - _we've_ seen stranger. You ever been there?"

"Pompeii?"

"No, Arkansas."

"No, can't say that I have."

"Pete loves it. He ate barbecue and fried chicken every day." My mind wanders to thoughts of Pete wearing a checkered bib and gobbling up ribs, chicken and pulled pork at nearly every roadside dive they came across. "I have no idea how he can pack all that away." I say with a gesture to my stomach.

I can tell Helena laughs at memories of Pete with food, those few times all of us sat down at a table together. "You didn't like it?"

"No, not my sort of place."

Helena opens up the paper bag with the coffee roll and sets it out in front of her. "Would you like a bite?"

"No, all yours."

She opens the lid of her drink to expose what smells like almond or hazelnut coffee. Apparently, Helena likes to dip things into her coffee. I had no idea. "Since when you do you dip food in coffee?"

"Since I discovered how delicious it can be." I can't help but smile at her. Chatting with her like this reminds me of when she lived at the Warehouse with us.

And then another part of me asks myself what the hell I am doing sitting here chatting with her like nothing has ever happened, like artifacts, astrolabes, lava in the middle of Arkansas are completely normal facets of life. How is it that we are so unphased by the thought of these things? How can she just be business-as-usual knowing things like this happen and exist? Here we are, both sitting in a donut shop, drinking coffee, eating snacks and chatting like nothing happened the past three years we've known each other.

On the other hand, it has taken me about three years to come to the realization that I absolutely love this woman sitting in front of me; dipping a strand of coffee roll into her drink, tucking strands of raven hair behind her ear, fiddling with her necklace.

We're quiet. Sitting in a fairly comfortable silence. Drinking our coffee, looking out the window, watching parents and their children pick out donuts together.

Which reminds me, I ought to be relatively polite and ask.

"How's Adelaide?" It comes out much faster than anticipated. I'm trying not to sound completely awkward.

"Adelaide is..." Helena straightens up a bit in her seat and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again. It was already behind her hair, but she reaches for it again when talking. "...doing very well. Last week, she earned her yellow belt."

"Ah." I try to sound enthusiastic. "Tell her congratulations from me."

"Of course." Helena slightly bows her head at me. "She took a liking to you, Myka."

"Me?"

"She's impressed by the badge."

"I think she's impressed by you." Helena coyly smiles when I say this.

I muster up some courage once more. This is the question I always hate asking. I have to ask, I have to be polite, I have to act like I just don't care about that, like it's totally fine that she's living with...this guy. As Pete pointed out to me, jealousy does not suit me well. "And, uh, how's Nate?" I do the best I can to make him not sound like a villain in an evil lair of doom, but I fear I'm failing at it each time. This is always the hardest part of these visits: asking about Nate. Out of spite or my stubbornness, I enunciate his name a little too clearly.

As always, whenever I ask Helena this question, she pauses, looks off in the distance for a moment and carefully selects her words. Rather than answer, she laughs a little, maybe even snorts, then finally speaks. "Nate's...Nate's..." Helena doesn't answer right away. She scratches the back of her neck, her hands move errantly around her head and shoulders. She's nervous, she's hiding. "It's complicated."

I reach for my coffee and it feels unnervingly light. Crap, I'm out of coffee to sip when I'm nervous. What do I do? Go get more or just pretend as though there's coffee in there and keep sipping the empty container?

"Myka." Helena pauses for a moment, thoughts running through her mind, words meticulously chosen, gestures perfectly crafted. "I miss you."

My mind is racing with what to do about the coffee when I realize what Helena has said to me. I do my best to stop my thoughts from taking over everything and focus on her words. That when I realize, I'm not entirely certain what to say. My thoughts are conflicted as I remember weeks, months without hearing from her. Time spent alone, worried about her, wondering where she is. I'm not even bringing into my mind what happened when we showed up in Boone a couple months ago. It would be easy to disregard.

I break down. I get honest with myself and Helena. Fiddling with the corners of my coffee cup, I sigh and stop lying to myself. "I miss you too." I say quietly, avoiding her gaze by looking at the table top. Helena's right hand inches forward over to my side and taps for me to grasp onto her. My own hand saunters forward and our fingers lightly mingle with one another. A sudden boost of clarity and confidence surges through me as we're joined and I look up at her. I've never touched her like this before. The sensation of her skin against my own makes my heart leap. "I miss us."

Helena looks at me. Now she's unsure what to say. Rather than say anything, she tugs my hand and begins stroking the palm of my hand with her thumb. The gestures melt me.

"We haven't really had an us though, have we?" I say with a bit of laugh.

Before Helena can answer, her phone rings, interrupting whatever progress we seem to have been making. She lets go of my hand.

"Hello?...This is she." Helena pauses for a moment and continues listening. "Oh, my...We'll be right there."

"Everything okay?"

"Adelaide. She broke her arm and jammed a couple of her fingers."

"Oh, no. Is there anything I can do?"

Helena looks around, checks the time on her phone and runs fingers through her hair. She always does that when she's nervous or worried. "I, uh...Nate...has the car, so..."

"I can drive you, Helena. That's no problem."

She smiles at me and I return the gesture. We gather together our cups and napkins, tossing everything out at the front door before we head over to pick up Adelaide and take her to the emergency room.

We drive to the kenpo studio in silence. Helena is worried about the little girl, I'm worried about Helena. She knows very well that Adelaide will be alright, but it's the mere thought of her being hurt that shakes her. Despite knowing that the little girl has been hurt, Helena is coping surprisingly well. She now knows how capable Adelaide is.

A couple hours later, Adelaide is sitting in the backseat of my car with her arm in a sling and we're headed back to her house. Honestly, this was the last thing I wanted: to be headed back to that house.

Helena goes to open the front door while I pick up Adelaide and carry her inside, placing her on the couch with a fluffy blanket. "Thank you, Myka." she says with a smile.

"No problem, little lady." She settles down with her book and does her best to ignore all of the grown-up talk Helena and I are having in the entryway.

Helena is concerned, and rightfully so, making this the most inopportune time to finish our conversation from earlier. I so badly want to, but it's not the right moment.

"I wish I could stay longer, but you know, Adelaide needs you right now and..." I shake my head. "I'll give you a buzz next time I'm in the area, okay?"

Her arms quickly go around me, catching me off-guard and resulting in me awkwardly wrapping my arms around her too.

"Thank you."

"Anytime." I am still holding her, not letting go. It's that warm, comfortable, sweet, relaxing everything that she is that makes me completely incapable of letting her go. What am I doing? I pull myself away as nonchalantly as possible. "I have to get back."

"Oh." She's disappointed. I can't linger here, not with Adelaide injured on the couch, and definitely not with Nate bound to be home as soon as Helena tells him his daughter has been hurt. I don't belong in that picture. I don't belong here.

It's never enjoyable to say goodbye to her, never knowing if I can strike up the courage to once again make the flight, rent a car, stay overnight somewhere I know I don't belong and know that she doesn't belong. All I know is that I get to hold her, even if it's only for a moment, before we part ways. For now, those moments have to last a lifetime.

So for a few hours once a month, I get to play my own game of denial. I fear that on one of these visits, the whole truth is going to catch up with me. Perhaps it will catch up with us both.


	2. Chapter 2: Roast

Helena walks over to the mailbox once she's home from work, noticing that it's hanging open and there's a bunch of letters and items inside. Nate walks in, but leaves the front door open for her.

A large packet is in there addressed to Adelaide. She finds it odd as the little girl never receives mail aside from a birthday card from out-of-state relatives. Upon closer inspection of the handwriting, Helena immediately recognizes the printing as well as the Univille, South Dakota postmark.

"Adelaide!" Helena cheerfully shouts upstairs.

She runs down the stairs at lightning speed, mindful not to brush her arm in a sling against the walls or knock into anything else en route to the kitchen. Adelaide peers her head around the corner with a grin. Outstretched in her hands, Helena dangles the packet in front of Adelaide. She reaches for it, but then Helena jokingly pulls it back and looks at her with a smile.

"Did you clean your room?"

"Yes."

"Homework?"

"In progress: 75 percent complete."

Helena smiles and hands her the large padded mailer. Adelaide takes it from her, looking at the return name and address. She smiles. "Thank you." She tears into the envelope and pulls out a small, wrapped rectangular item. Making quick work of the purple wrapping on the gift, faded cloth binding appears: _The Wind in the Willows_. It's an old copy, one of that probably came from Bering & Sons, Helena mentally notes. There are two envelopes in the packet, one marked "Adelaide" and the other marked "Helena." Adelaide passes Helena her envelope and waits for her to open it.

"No, you open yours first. I will look at mine later."

Little fingers open up the bright orange envelope to find a Get Well card. Adelaide grins when she sees it's signed by both Myka and Pete; Myka's neat cursive and Pete's silly scrawl. Helena looks over her shoulder to see what she's written.

_You'll be up doing kenpo in no time! Wishing you a speedy recovery. Hugs from Myka & Pete_

Adelaide smiles at the card and takes the book over to the couch to start reading. Helena watches her scurry over to read, curling up into a corner of the couch with her new distraction. She could tell her to get back upstairs to finish her homework, but this one time Helena relaxes and watches her read. Once she is engrossed in her book, Helena heads back into the kitchen to read the note. She hears the footsteps of Nate upstairs, probably getting changed or doing some housework with all his stomping around.

There is something firm in the envelope, she feels around before actually opening it. Upon opening, Helena pulls out of a gift card for the coffee shop they frequent. Her heart flutters for a moment, remembering touching Myka's hand, giving her a hug, watching her carry Adelaide into the house.

Attached to the card is a small Post-It note in Myka's writing: _I miss us_.

Seeing those three words in Myka's hand, Helena knows she is in love.

* * *

The good news is that we have landed and I got my cell phone out to go online and check my messages. There's a message from Helena wishing me a safe drive and one from Pete asking where he put his car keys. The captain says we'll be at the terminal in ten minutes; all I can do is let out a childish moan at the delay. I quickly reply to Pete's message, informing him I last saw his keys in the refrigerator (no idea why). For Helena, I take a moment to think about what I want to say. It's not like she knows I'm at the airport.

_Running late today - should be there by 11:30._

Moments later, there is a chime on my phone letting me know there is a message from her.

_How about we have coffee at the house then? A is kenpo, N is out of town._

I could easily think of a dozen excuses to not go back to that house. Sure, it would be nice to be somewhere private and quiet with her, no distractions from others. But alone, just the two of us.

Also, since when is it "the" house. Not "my" house or "our" house? The house.

The notification alert dings once more - it's a photo of two mugs together on a counter. No message, just a photo. I can't resist this.

I'm nervous. Again. Sitting on the tarmac at the airport is driving me crazy. My entire schedule was thrown off in this most recent trip to Wisconsin. Problems at the Warehouse topped off by a weather delay at the airport left me flying in the same day. Even though I have only been sitting in this seat for an hour, my back is killing me. It's probably due to the small child behind me who keeps kicking or kneeing my seat. I'm lucky to carry an entire bag of pain relief medication on me and find some ibuprofen because in my line of work, you never know when you're going to need it. After taking some, I l lean my head forward against the seat in front of me. Luckily, there is no one sitting there so I can freely bang my head against the cushioned headrest.

At least I am getting a good allotment of frequent flyer miles out of this. Not sure if I will ever get to use them though. Between those accumulated working at the Warehouse and my own weekend excursions, I will probably, no absolutely, never use all the points.

Things feel better between the two of us. The first couple of visits, Helena hardly said much. We just drank our coffee, had a snack and went on our merry way. Last time though, when Adelaide got hurt, she came undone a little bit. I got to see more of the Helena that I fondly remember, know and, yes, love. Ever since I visited a month ago, she has been sending me texts, e-mails and silly photos; usually of Adelaide's recovery, but also of local sights, items of interest and occasionally, herself. I've felt better about our relationship as well and have also been sending her more messages and photos. Much of the time it's Pete being goofy, but he'll sometimes take a candid picture of me and send it to her from my phone.

Despite all of the progress we have made, I'm still scared when I pull up to the house. I'm never scared. I'd rather spend a day investigating a tentacle monster than be at this place for coffee. Adelaide is at kenpo (albeit in a non-participatory capacity) and then a birthday party/sleepover with her friends. Nate is...somewhere, Helena didn't elaborate. It's nerve wracking the mere thought of being alone with her in the house, but it's also thrilling.

Maybe this is what I want. To truly have her to myself, even if it's only for a little bit.

I've noticed that she never really goes into much detail about him, what he does, where he goes. At least this when he's out of town. After that initial discussion as to her newfound family a few months ago, Helena is reluctant to bring up Nate to me. She will talk at length and lovingly about Adelaide, but not him. I am perfectly fine with that.

I knock on the door and wait...and wait. She's there, casually leaning against the door frame once she opens it. Yoga pants, tight v-neck t-shirt, barefoot. I would have said she was exercising, but she's not at all sweaty or out of breath. Every curve of her body is accentuated and all I can do is stand here, try to look at her face and strongly avoid having my eyes trail lower and lower and lower...

"Hi." I give her a quick wave and tuck my hand back into my back pocket, trying to make it obvious that I haven't been scanning her body up and down for a good couple of seconds.

"Hi." Helena is smiling and cheerful, not at all rushing like she usually does during our coffee get-togethers. "Come in, come in." I walk into the house and stand in the entryway as she shuts and locks the front door. "How are you?" Helena moves towards me for a hug and holds out her arms. I comfortably lean into them and instantly feel at ease. All of my cares and worries are gone with just the touch of her hand.

"I'm okay," I reply as she embraces me. I put my arms low, around her waist, and rest my hands against the dip in her back. As I rub the area above the waist of her pants, I hear the faintest hum of delight from Helena. Her head rests on my shoulder and she sighs, then lets go of me. "Before I forget, I received a lovely thank you card from Adelaide a couple days ago."

"That was incredibly sweet of you."

I smile to myself: she thinks I'm sweet. "Nothing worse than an active child who gets injured like that and can't participate in sports and playing outdoors."

"Agreed. She's been doing a lot of reading, actually." Helena looks over towards the window and patio, quickly changing the subject back to our coffee drinking. "It's really nice out today. You want to have coffee outside on the patio?"

"Sounds good." I reply. We both walk into the kitchen towards the coffee maker. Helena opens up a drawer filled with many pods of different flavors of coffee, then switches it on and allows it to heat up. I note the two matching mugs from the photo on the counter which she then places closer to the machine.

"I love these things." Helena says with a grin. I return the smile, but it's just another reminder that I missed out on seeing her use one of these machines for the first time. They only really became popular after she was debronzed, but still it would have been wonderful to see her reaction. It was always a joy to watch her experience new gadgets each time. This could have been one of those new technological items we could have learned how to use together.

I pick out a pod of dark roast, which Helena puts on for me. We both stand silently, shoulder-to-shoulder, watching the machine dole out the beverage.

"Oh, there's some pound cake too."

I'd almost forgot about her new-found cooking and baking abilities. It's a shame that she never did that back at the Warehouse; she could have easily kept Pete quiet and sated a majority of the time with delicious things. "You made that?"

"Yes. I am slowly chipping away at the stereotype of horrendous English cooking that seems to have permeated your culture in the past hundred years."

"_Our_ culture? I'm pretty sure the entire world thinks that." I snicker. "Besides, your national dish is now Chicken Tikka Masala."

Without thinking, I mutter, "You ought to watch Nigella. She's British and pretty cu-" I stop myself when I realize that I am talking about how attractive another woman is and making what can best be described as an offensive "large breasts" gesture with my own hands. My subconscious is certainly going to get the best of me one of these days. As coolly as possible, I place my hands on the counter in front of me and keep them steady without drawing even more attention to myself. Helena, unfortunately, doesn't miss what I've said or motioned as she's standing next to me with another one of those huge grins I've now become accustomed to seeing. "I'll be outside." I quickly say, practically running towards the patio door without my coffee.

Five minutes later, Helena joins me outside, carrying our coffees along with that delicious-looking pound cake and her drink. I'm sitting in a chair looking out at the green trees and flowers in the yard, thinking I'm done and utterly embarrassed.

"You know, it's perfectly alright, Myka." Helena takes the seat next to me rather than across from me.

"What is?" I squeak out. I think I know what she wants to say, but I am eager to hear her spell it out for me.

She doesn't reply to me straight away, instead taking a sip of her coffee. Helena moves slowly and takes all the time in the world to raise and lower her drink then relax back in her chair. "Your attraction to women."

Some of the embarrassment is coming back. No, wait, I am fully embarrassed at being informed by someone alive during the birth of the telegraph, blue jeans and peanut butter as well as the Unifications of Germany and Italy that it's alright for me to be attracted to someone of the same sex. Sitting here with the woman I have been in love with for so long, essentially the only person I have honestly loved in my entire life. I'm flabbergasted we're actually having this conversation after so many years.

"Thanks. It's...complicated." I say then take a long gulp of my coffee.

"People say that a lot these days."

"What?"

"The complicated thing. In general. Not solely in regards to one's sexuality. Suppose I do hear it fairly often when referencing one's romantic status or sexual orientation." she says with a wink. Helena reaches for a knife to cut into the pound cake. "Would you like a slice?"

I nod my head. I am more than eager to try some of Helena's cooking and baking. I almost forget that I was supposed to have something to eat with that ibuprofen I took when the plane landed. She cuts into the cake and places a slice on a paper napkin for me. Switching between questions on baking and breasts puts my brain in a tizzy.

"I've lain with a woman before." She says it so matter-of-factly too as she hands me the pound cake. "Well, several times, back during the days of Warehouse 12 though. You?"

I nearly choke on my drink and liquid goes down the wrong pipe as I repeatedly cough. Helena sort of chuckles at my inability to drink properly, but I am too busy coughing to hear the laughter. When I woke up this morning, I did not imagine myself talking to Helena about lesbian sex or other matters of sexual preference. Of course this isn't news to me about her and other women, it's merely the fact that she brings this up in her boyfriend's house.

"I love being with a woman." Right, I am fairly certain she is just trying to rile me up now. "The lengthy hair, the curvy hips, the smoothness, the softness...breasts." Helena's eyes trail over my body, looking at my cleavage. She's eyeing me; completely looking me up and down until she finally returns to look at my breasts for an extended glare en route to my eyes. She's not even trying to hide it either. I'm not sure if I'm regretting or quietly high-fiving myself for wearing such a low-cut shirt.

"Hmm, based upon what you had previously mentioned, if you have a type then it would be dark-haired, dark-eyed women with an English accent and talented hands?" Helena is extremely flirty today. It's easier to not answer that one. All I can do is raise my eyebrow in her direction and say nothing.

Why is she doing this to me? This is the Helena I remember before the hologram, before the Minoan Trident. This is the playful, cheerful woman with whom I fell so madly in love. Maybe...

"And voluptuous."

Will this embarrassment ever end? Fine, time to turn the tables.

"What's your type then? Uh, with women?"

Helena pauses and says nothing. Finally, I've got her speechless, even if for the moment she needs to think of her reply. She sips her coffee first then places the mug back on the table. "I do love a woman with brown curls, pretty eyes. And an adorable American accent. Not to forget, most importantly, a deeply-rooted love of literature is essential." Her confession comes out strong and confident at the beginning. By the time she mentions literature, her tone becomes quieter and she speaks slowly.

My hearts beats so loudly Helena can probably hear it at her seat. "Myka..." Helena can't finish. She stares at me and I'm uncertain if it's pity or love I see looking back at me. That's why she's hiding behind all of the flirtations. I reach my hand across the table. That look though: it says she's stuck, uncertain where this is going. I'm making her choose.

"It's alright, Helena."

"I don't know what to do." She admits with tears in her eyes. There have only been a few times Helena has not known what to do. It pains me when she says this. The Helena who doesn't know what to do is scared. She's scared of her choices, her desires and her needs. Say goodbye to all her cockiness. Underneath all of that bravado, when she's uncertain of herself like this, that is when I love her the most. It's her moment of panic that brings her to her moment of clarity. It's where she shines brightest.

"What do _you_ want?" I ask.

"You're the first person to have ever asked me that."

"And I will always ask you what you want, Helena."

She wipes tears from her face. I hate to see her cry like this and to see her so sad. This is a strong, beautiful, caring woman who has too infrequently in her life been asked what she wants. It's the reason she doesn't know what to do. It's why she can't be honest with me, or herself, for that matter. She can flirt, but truthfully it's a mask for her actual desires. It's exactly the reason why she's in the situation she's in. "I want to know what I am to you."

Without thinking, I blurt out, "You're my one." I don't mean for it to come out so brashly. Or so quickly.

"Sorry?"

"My one."

"But, I already know. Isn't there someone-"

I cut her off before "else" can be added to her statement. "No, just - there's only you. There will only ever be you."

She doesn't know how to respond, only looks at me and faintly smiles. Her hand reaches up to my cheek and caresses it with her thumb. My eyes shut instantly upon contact with her. With only this simple touch of her hand, I am completely happy.

"I'm not...more?"

I don't know how to respond to that. Part of me still says more, more, more. Perhaps more than any other moment we've spent together, I know now that she wants more, especially after our incredibly flirty coffee rendez-vous. I desperately want us, but how could I be more to her? She's with...him...and there's his daughter. Helena is taken aback, her hand leaves the comfort of my face and I immediately reach my hand up to keep hers where it has been.

Is this it? Do I tell her? Do I stop hiding from my truth? Our truth?

"Helena, I..." Once more, I trail off with my thoughts. I want to be honest with her. Everything is just accumulating inside me and it's getting too difficult to be less than honest with her. "I want us."

With my free hand, I angle my chair and reach behind her tilted head to pull her towards me. I can see in her eyes that the fear is gone. There are only smiles, the happiest of thoughts. I tell myself, I am going to kiss this woman, I am going to explore every inch of her mouth with my own. I am going to hold her and tell her that we have as good a shot as any other couple in the world, if not better considering our lives. I have been waiting my whole life to kiss someone like her with all of my heart and all of my passion.

Our lips tentatively collide and she's soft. So soft. She's sweet. She's tender. She tastes of coffee. She's perfect. Helena quickly pounces from her seat directly onto my lap, wanting more contact with me. We're as pressed together as we can be in a patio chair, but definitely not close enough. I remove my hand from her head and instead direct it under the seam of the waist of her yoga pants, touching her skin against my hand and pulling her into me as close as I can. Helena doesn't seem to mind my wandering hand as she moans into my mouth.

When she lets go, I whisper, "You are my one. My one and only."

Her hand creeps up the front of my shirt, crawling underneath it towards my breasts. I sigh into her mouth as she pinches my nipple above my bra and then smooths the palm of her hand over my breast to touch me. Helena doesn't stop kissing me or running the fingers from the unoccupied hand through my curls. Her hands are meant for my breasts and expertly palm, squeeze and tease me so. I love that she instinctively knows what to do with my body.

After a minute of Helena touching me, my hand wanders towards the front of her yoga pants and it's dipping lower, just along her hipbone. I have no idea why I go there rather than her breasts; I just want to be there, inside her. She has nothing else on underneath, so my hand can freely dip lower and lower. I have this rational (or perhaps it's irrational) need to be inside her, claim her as mine and feel her clench and spasm tightly around my fingers. Scream my name as her limbs give out. How did I ever get so territorial? My hands don't wander too much lower; this is fast, even for me.

Her lips unglue themselves from me for a moment as Helena moans, significantly louder this time, as my hand trails against her skin. She presses her cheek against mine so that her beautiful lips are next to my ear.

"You are making me very wet, Myka." Her breath lingers, her words repeatedly ring through my head, her fingers don't cease caressing my shoulder.

We're making out on the patio like a couple of teenagers who can't do what they're doing indoors in the line of sight of their parents. I suppose we could be doing this inside, but truthfully I can't be romantic _there_ in _that_ house, well at least not surrounded by photos of a smiling boyfriend and his daughter. That's when I realize we are outside. In front of nosy neighbors in a cul-de-sac, in Wisconsin suburbs. What the hell am I doing?

I stop kissing her and as gracefully as possible remove my hands from her pants. Her breath hitches as I put my hands directly on her hips. "I need you to be certain what you want."

"Stay the weekend."

How can I resist...


	3. Chapter 3: Grind

I have to though.

There is absolutely no way that I can stay in this house overnight. The only reason I can even put my hands on her so much is because I'm outside looking at grass and trees, basically everything that I can't confuse with being in Nate's house. My lips feel swollen from fervently kissing Helena who is still sitting in my lap and running fingers through my hair.

"I can't, not...I'm not...I'm really tired." I calmly say to Helena. She removes herself from my lap and extends her hand to me to assist me in getting out of the chair.

"Come, let's go lie down upstairs, Myka." I hesitate for a moment, wary of being here. What if...someone comes home? What if...there are several scenarios that play out in my mind. I keep telling myself to stay calm and relax. I'm with Helena: there is nowhere else I would rather be right now. "I do want to..., I mean, I would love it if we could spend the rest of the weekend together."

"I'd really like that." I look down at our joined hands and lightly swing them back and forth. "I, uh, I can't stay overnight here, Helena."

"We don't have to." she gently assures me. She lets go of my hands as we clear up the patio table. We pick up the mugs and cake to put back in the kitchen before going upstairs. It's almost 12:30 and it's a good time to rest for a bit.

Helena takes my hand and leads me upstairs.

"No one really uses this room." Helena says as she turns on the light. I look around this dark little guest bedroom that sits next to Adelaide's room. It is a comfortable small space with a queen-sized bed, dresser, TV and en-suite bath. Luckily, the room is devoid of personal items, family pictures or anything that would make me think I am where I am. It doesn't even smell like the other rooms in the house since the door always remains shut, according to Helena. As long as the door is closed and we're focused on one another, I think it's possible to easily forget where I am when we are alone like this.

I put down my bag by the dresser and then go to remove my sneakers and socks. Helena doesn't move, she simply watches me do something as mundane as untie my shoes, which for some reason makes her grin. "Please, undress." I say without looking up at her.

Not hesitating, Helena pulls her shirt over her head, removes her black yoga pants and tosses them to the ground. She doesn't frantically move, all of her movements are calm and purposeful, not teasing in the slightest. There is no hurry for anything: it's just the two of us and it feels as though we have an endless amount of time. She wears nothing but a simple bra and as she reaches behind her back to undo the clasp, I stop her. I want to do this. "Wait." She looks at me, dropping her hands to her sides and waits for me to approach. I capture her lips with my own and pepper her face and neck with kisses. Her nearly naked body is pressed against mine, but I can't feel her skin with all my clothes. My hands encircle the top of her back to find the clasp of her bra. I unhook it as I kiss along her shoulder, sliding the material off her body. As I remove it, my hands slide across the sides of her breasts and Helena shudders.

She's stunning. For a moment, she is almost shy standing in front of me. Gone is the cocky woman who built a rocket, wrote science-fiction, designed a grappler. I stand before a smart, gorgeous, complicated woman with whom I am very much in love. I take a moment to eye her nude form and can't stop looking at her. Immediately my eyes wander down, looking between her legs. It's a bit awkward to be staring like this, but it's the sight of her glistening arousal along her slit that makes my heart beat much faster and makes my mouth get drier. She certainly wasn't joking earlier about being wet. As casually as possible, I reach for her hands to place them on my hips. It's silent permission for her to remove my clothes.

Helena catches her breath and slides her hands down to slowly unbutton and then lower the zipper on my pants, sliding her hands underneath the fabric of my boyshorts and my jeans. Hands smooth down my thighs until everything can fall on its own. I remove my own bra so Helena's hands are free to roam over me. My clothes are in a small pile at my feet and I kick them out of our way.

"We're just taking a nap?" I ask, somewhat disappointed. Her hand meanders upwards, directly over my curls and finally both hands return to my hips. It has been the longest time since anyone has touched me so intimately. I tremble with each brush of her fingers; even with the few touches she has given me, I can easily say it has never been as loving as Helena's. I can hardly speak when her fingertips ever so slightly graze over my own wetness. She is such a tease with her touch. I smile.

"Yes, nap." she says with a deep breath. It's just as hard for me. There hasn't been anyone since Sam and even then, those moments with him were few and far between. I am doing the best I can to fight the urge to pounce her. It's hard enough to be in this house with Helena, let alone completely naked before her. Then again, I am completely happy with where I am right now, here with her. I feel self-conscious standing there in front of her with nothing on.

"That doesn't mean I won't hold you though."

Helena looks at me, trying her utmost to resist. "You ought to know, this is taking a lot of effort on my part. I'm not sure if I'll sleep, we did just have coffee. Then there's the matter of your clothes and how they are missing."

"Would you rather I put my clothes back on?"

She chuckles. "No, just get in bed." I am enjoying how we can easily alter between romantic and playful. I pull back the fresh linens on the bed and quickly lie down. The central air in the house makes everything cool; all I want is to pull the sheets over me and shut my eyes as Helena and I hold each other.

As Helena gets into bed, she pulls off the sheet that was valiantly keeping me warm for all of ten seconds and straddles me, bracing herself with hands pressing against my stomach and looking into my eyes. I have never been so aroused in my entire life as I have been in the past five minutes of undressing and getting into bed with this woman. Poised above me with her legs spread open just enough to see and smell her, I have to have my hands on that body. They immediately gravitate to her breasts where they pinch and pull at her nipples. Helena moans and cants her hips forwards and back repeatedly. I absolutely never thought I would be able to touch her like this.

I look into her eyes and finally see the woman I have come to love over the past three years. I see a woman who is giving me everything and showing me all of herself. Helena looks back at me with complete love and a whole lot of lust.

Without breaking eye contact, my fingers trace thin pink vertical lines on her stomach: reminders of the child she bore and lost. The skin feels different in those spots, almost puckered. In the years (technically) since she was pregnant, the lines are fainter, but they are still there.

"He was surprised I had had a daughter." she softly admits.

My eyes shift to her stomach and it's evident that she had carried a child. I smooth my hands over her body; such a bittersweet reminder. How could he have possibly missed that? They are not the most obvious pregnancy stretch marks I've seen (and not that I've observed many), but from their direction and pattern, I know what caused them. After how many months of being together, living together? Part of me is thoroughly outraged he didn't notice those beautiful lines below her waist and along her hips. It isn't merely a case of my being highly observant, but it's a matter of fact that Helena has carried a child when one sees her beautiful naked form.

The way she says it sounds as though she is sad, but not entirely surprised, he never noticed. For something so important to have happened in her life, for those signs of it right in front of one's eyes, her feelings are clearly hurt by his lack of observational skills. Scars like that remind me that she is undeniably Helena Wells and not the fictitious Emily Lake. Those physical scars make it impossible for Helena to deny or to hide who she truly is.

Her words startle me to the point where I can't remain on the edge of making love to her and we need to slow things down once more. I place my hands around her back to support her, gently pressing her to the bed. My hips grind into hers as we shift positions together. The whimper that escapes her lips is so beautiful, it takes every bit of restraint to not press myself into her, thrusting against her center until the two of us tumble over in pleasure. I kiss her lips, her cheeks, her forehead and then move to kiss other parts of her body. Helena trembles as I kiss her lower and lower, not entirely sure what she is expecting me to do, but I did say we would rest and I fully intend to keep that promise.

Our love acknowledges our pasts, presents and futures.

I find those lines on her stomach and kiss each of them, up and down. My arms circle themselves at her waist and I rest my head against her. Cool air breezes over my body as I hold her to me. My lips kiss every inch of her marks, up and down. Her stomach muscles flutter, causing her to shake against me with each motion of my lips and long fingers comb through my hair as I kiss her. I spend a decent amount of time pressing my lips to every inch of her stomach; each line given the attention and acknowledgement it deserves.

When I stop claiming each of her marks, I pull up towards the pillows and lie down on my back. Helena snuggles into me and holds me. We are completely quiet, enveloped in each other without any thoughts of the world outside of this room.

* * *

A few hours later, I wake up in an unfamiliar location. Unfamiliar aside from a recognizable scent of Helena. I roll onto my side to face her, shifting my body without waking her. My arms immediately go around her waist to pull her closer to me and my hands then relax on the sides of her thighs and circle the skin found there.

A gentle moan escapes Helena and she wiggles back and forth a bit. Her legs stretch out and her eyes suddenly open; she looks at me with a smile. "One could grow accustomed to waking up to your beauty."

Helena leans forward to kiss me. "One could easily grow accustomed to nude napping with you." I add.

"Hmmm, you feel lovely." My fingers continue to trace nonsensical lines on her thigh. "What shall we do the rest of the day?"

"I could easily stay here and hold you."

"As could I." She leans in and we seal it with a kiss.

That's what we do for the next couple of hours: relax in bed together, talk about what has happened (and what is happening), tease each other's bodies, fade in and out of slumber, kiss whenever we want. Naked, wrapped in blankets, holding one another, we talk at length for the first time. This is the longest, uninterrupted conversation we've had with each other since Helena was reinstated at the Warehouse three years ago. Holding her in my arms like this, it's impossible for me to think of any other cares or worries.

We finally decide to go downstairs for something to drink when it starts to get dark. It's hard to let her go as I pull back the sheets to get out of bed. The room has gotten darker and we're nothing more than darkened silhouettes. I pull on my shirt and boyshorts as Helena looks for her clothes. "What would you like to do tonight?"

There is she asking me what I want. "I have no idea. What do people do around here?"

"They go to the lake, hiking or outdoorsy things."

I am so not up for something like hiking or walking anywhere in this heat. Helena tries to hold back her laughter, or is it annoyance, at the fact that this is what there is to do here. Moments like these remind me that she lived in London, traveled the world long before this existence. Even in the Warehouse, middle of nowhere South Dakota, there were artifacts, our little family, all of that endless wonder, obviously never a dull moment sort of place. Boone is...quiet, painfully typical. Strip malls of big box stores, chain restaurants.

"Okay. Let me go back upstairs and put on a bra." I quickly look down and add, "And pants."

We decide to go out for a drive, down to the lake. Thanks to our nap and lounging, I probably won't go to sleep tonight. Then again, how could I with all that has happened today? I don't think Helena will sleep either.

Trudging back upstairs, I leave Helena to dress in the guest room, she goes into the master bedroom to get some different clothes. I won't go in there with her; it's an unspoken acknowledgement that I won't go in that room and there's no pressure to follow her in there.

I wait downstairs for her, my bag in hand.

"Ready?"

"Yes, let me get my keys." Helena picks up her keys from a dish in the kitchen and we head outside. Standing in front of the car, I am a bit confused if she wants me to drive or if she is going to. Walking towards the car, I decrease my pace and Helena soon speeds up a bit to move ahead of me. She waltzes to the passenger door and opens it, extending a hand to take my bag from me as well. I shut my eyes for a moment and shake my head: honestly, she can be such a romantic nerd.

Helena shuts my door and opens the door to the back seat, tossing my bag inside. I can't help but laugh to myself observing her be all casual with me. I really like it. I lean over to open her door from the inside, defeating her attempts at chivalry, but it makes her smile and laugh. "You're too much." She starts the car, backing out of the driveway quickly.

"Seat belt." I quietly say. Helena reaches to her left to pull at it and I grab the end once it's over on my side. I buckle her in, basically an excuse for me to touch her hip.

"I'll need it if you keep doing that." she smirks. I place my hand on her leg as she drives us about 15 minutes away from the house to a nearby lake.

* * *

It's almost 8pm and everyone seems to have gone home for the day. It's a perfect evening to be outside. The sky is clear, the water still, the crowds have gone home for the day. There are a few fires going around the shoreline, but they are far from us, probably just college kids outdoors drinking. We mind our own business in our own quiet corner of the beach.

Helena takes a blanket from the back of the car and we settle down on the sand. I take off my sneakers and socks, letting my toes wiggle in the breeze. She sees me doing this and quickly does the same.

"Outside without footwear? Tsk, tsk." I joke.

"I shall have you know I've learnt a lot from television, film and Internet. Not to mention learnt what you people think we were like."

Helena leans down and props her head on her hand, looking back up towards me. I do the same and face her. "I love you."

"I love you too." I say and move myself forward to kiss her. I place my free hand around her waist, allowing my fingers to make make nonsensical patterns. "I love that only a few hours ago, you were straddling me, completely naked and I could see every inch of you." It'd be practically impossible for me to remove that image of her above me from my mind.

Helena laughs and scoots closer to me. "Good," she says with a firm nod of the head, "Think of this as a free preview weekend."

"Wow, you have been watching a lot of TV."

We lie flat on the blankets and look up at the stars. There aren't too many bright lights in this area so we can see a good number of stars. It's nothing like the view we get at the Warehouse, but it's still decent. Helena shifts to curl herself into the crook of my arm and wrap an arm around my waist. Again, I'm utterly struck by how much she likes to hold me and keep me close. My nose is in her hair, brushing against strands of hair not held back in her loose ponytail. Her hair is normally down; however, in this weather she keeps it away from the nape of her neck.

It's still hot and humid out, regardless we're comfortable curled into one another on the banks of the water. I start humming some old song and Helena pulls into me even closer.

"You want to go for a swim?" she asks.

I do feel hot and sticky plus there's sand between my toes. I can't remember the last time I went swimming. "No bathing suits."

"Not an issue." Helena stands up and quickly pulls off her clothes, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. It takes a moment for me as I watch her pull a shirt over her head all casually. I get up as well to remove my clothes.

"What if someone sees us? Or if the cops come?"

"You've your badge. Amaze them." Helena says with a wink. She reaches her arms around her back to take off her bra, letting the garment fall onto the blanket. "Come on."

She starts walking towards the water and then stops mid-way to remove her panties, tossing them behind her. I let my brain settle into the fact that Helena wants to go skinny dipping here; despite my groan, I take off everything and follow her into the water.

The water is much colder than I thought albeit incredibly refreshing. I swim out ten feet to where Helena is treading to meet up with her. My feet can reach the ground, but she can't. Helena stretches out her arms to hold onto my shoulders since those couple of inches certainly matter here. "Hi."

"Hi."

She pulls me towards her and we kiss in the moonlight, underneath the stars, in the cool water of this lake. Her hair is still in that messy ponytail, but now it's all slicked back flat against her head. I wrap my arms around her neck. Helena is so beautiful and I want her so badly. "I'm not sure if I can wait until we're in bed at home." I say. "I want you."

"Don't wait then." Helena gradually takes my right hand wrapped around her neck and guides it underwater, between her legs. I feel her short curls brush against my hand and instinctively my fingers reach towards her entrance. One finger touches the tip of her clit and I am rewarded with a tremendous gasp. Her legs immediately wrap around my waist (so she doesn't have to tread water) as I keep teasing her incessantly. Lake water can be unseemly for what we're about to do, so I keep my other hand groping her breast as I dot her neck with kisses.

Being out here with Helena makes me feel like a kind of late bloomer, 31 years old and skinny dipping on a hot summer evening with my...whatever she is. I certainly never did anything like this when I was younger; I was too busy reading, studying or working to be doing this sort of thing. Helena makes me feel giddy and rejuvenated out here. She's smiling, well, right now she's just kind of moaning since my lips are glued to her neck, but she is so happy and at ease. That makes me just as happy.

I begin to move us towards shore, holding onto Helena with my hands and walking us to our blanket. There is a small outdoor shower area not too far away from the beach and, of course, this gives me plenty of ideas, so we detour towards the little building. Helena turns her head, wondering what we're doing and she smiles when she realizes where we're headed. I unlatch the door of the shower with a free hand, step onto the cedar flooring and quickly turn on the spigot. Shutting the door is another matter and I barely get it shut, but not latched.

The entire shower is covered in smooth treated wood and it's easy for me to press Helena against the wall. We're instantly covered in cool water from the shower, clearing our bodies from any of the sand and other things in the lake.

Without hesitation, I thrust two fingers inside of her and she tugs and pulls at me, flexing her muscles around me and pressing her heels into the small of my back. I remain motionless before I settle into a slow pace, gliding in and out of her, feeling how wet she is and how much she wants me. Helena rises up and down on my fingers, links her lips with mine once more, holds me as close to her as possible. Being inside her is the most extraordinary experience; being connected to her this way is exactly what I have always wanted.

"Myka..." She doesn't finish her sentence as I thrust a final time and graze the heel of my palm against her clit with a bit more force than before. My fingers are strongly gripped by her fluttering muscles that contract and relax repeatedly, pulling me into her more and more. Her fingers dig into my back, water trailing down my shoulders cooling us down.

Apparently in this state, we both completely ignore the sound of a car pulling up and the footsteps approaching the shower cabin and the rapping on the wooden door. My lips are too busy kissing her shoulder as she comes down and my fingers too occupied inside of her to even care. We finally realize the sounds are from someone outside.

"Uh..." There's the knock on the door again. "I see your feet. Well, two feet, but I know the two of you are in there."

I quietly settle Helena to the ground and she wobbles a couple steps over to the door. She looks back at me, biting her lip and raising her eyebrows. This woman can talk her way out of anything. "Sorry about that, we were..." She pauses for a moment and sweetly says, "Officer Curtis."

I try so hard to not laugh at this: of all people. I peer my head around the corner of the shower, standing on tiptoe over Helena's head with my breasts pressed against her back as I lean over. I smile at the nearly bald gentleman standing there with his arms crossed and a stern look. Once he sees me though, he softens with a grin. I mentally roll my eyes: men.

"Hi." I respond with a smile.

He pauses for a second looking at me and then Helena, finally recognizing us. "Whoa, looks like, uh, you succeeded in impressing her. You better be at least clothed by the time I make my next rounds though, so, uh, carry on, ladies."

I mouth a silent thank you to him before Helena shuts and locks the cabin door with a laugh. It's not entirely embarrassing.

"Now where were we?"

Helena presses me against the wall, the shower water runs down her back and my hands that grip against her. She reaches her hand down to my leg and pulls it upward, opening me to her. With the height difference, it's certainly easier than trying to hoist me against the wall and my leg contentedly curls around her waist. For a moment I pause to catch my breath and enjoy the sensation of Helena pressed against me. One hand lets go of my hip and finds its way between my legs, fingers spread wetness up and down me. I can't remember the last time anyone touched me like this. It takes only a moment for Helena to realize no one has entered me in a very long time. "Helena, please, go slowly." I mutter, trying to spit out words. She has beautiful long fingers that tease the inside of my walls and tap against any area with a unique texture. Each movement of her hand makes me quiver and moan. It takes a moment for me to adjust to having her inside me, it feels amazing and she is so gifted with her fingers. She's gentle and loving, knowing that she's the first in an extremely long time to have pleasured me this way. I love that it's her doing this and it's the thought of Helena making me feel this that tumbles me over the edge.

Once I come down from my endorphin rush, I slowly lower my leg to the ground. The first thing I notice is Helena looking at me, running her fingers through what remains of the ponytail I had. I kiss her again, holding her to me tightly. It's getting cooler finally, not to mention getting late, and we need to find somewhere to spend the night lest we endure the wrath of Office Curtis making his rounds. I turn around to shut off the water and we do our best to dry off before leaving the shower area.

Helena walks down to the shore and collects our clothes. She places mine in a neat pile at my feet, but hers are kind of scattered along the beach. For some unknown reason, she takes my shirt and throws it over her head while she walks to get her clothes.

"You're really good at that." I say. Even in the moonlight, I can sense a hint of blushing. Helena tosses me her shirt which is easily a size too small, but I honestly don't care as it smells like her. I pull on my pants and place my socks in the pockets: no need to wear shoes until necessary. I fold up my bra and put it in my back pocket; just need to remember to take it out of there before getting in the car so I don't get poked in the ass with some wire. I pull the shirt over my head and, as anticipated, it's tight on me and my skin's still wet, but I secretly think that's what she wanted. "Where do you want to spend the night?"

"With you, doesn't matter where."

We share a smile and walk back up to the car. This time, Helena opens the passenger door for me then tosses the sand-covered blanket into the trunk. She gets into the seat next to me, shuts the door. She reaches for my hand and we cuddle next to each other as best we can in the backseat of this car. Helena rests against my shoulder and squeezes my middle as she shuts her eyes.

We always seem to succeed in finding places where it can be just the two of us in the midst of everything else.


	4. Chapter 4: Brew

"Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all, just got home, in fact." I can hear her setting items down on a hard surface in the background.

"How was your day?" I start to pace the room, my mind going a mile a minute, heart fluttering, sweat beading along my forehead.

"Alright, definitely on the dull side. Well, more like 'disgusting' considering all the bodily fluids."

"Ewww." Helena laughs at my obvious disgust.

"How about you? Everything alright there?"

She knows there's something on my mind. She always knows. We don't call each other, not even after our last coffee run, if you will, a couple weeks ago. We text and e-mail, but I try to be unobtrusive as possible for the remaining time she has there.

"Helena, I -" I stop myself for a moment. I tried to keep myself from calling her. She still has the loose ends of her life in Wisconsin to deal with before she can head out here. We are moving forward with a path of honesty and truthfulness. I take a deep breath and sigh into the phone, "I miss you."

I'm fairly certain that I can hear her smile on the other end. "I miss you too." she quietly replies.

I sigh again; I still pace the room wandering around and getting distracted at all the bookbindings and out-of-place items surrounding me. I finally settle down on top of the bed and rest a moment. "Honestly, I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice. Talk to me. Ask me anything."

"Of course," she replies. I pull back the covers and climb into bed, sighing heavily and focusing on the sound of her voice to soothe me, "tell me what you've been reading..."

* * *

I wake up with a startle in my own bed, swearing someone else is in it next to me. Unfortunately, I look over, remember that it's just me in the bed and that no one else has been here. Soon though. Soon I will not be waking up alone in the mornings. It takes a moment to catch my breath and gather myself. My cell phone is blinking with a notification of new messages. I swipe the screen to see a photo of hot coffee and a slice of coffee cake; no text to it, just the image. There's no need for me to decipher who sent that picture. The thought of her photo brings a smile to my face, especially as it's the first thing I see. I lie back down on the bed for a moment before getting up. It's her own way of saying good morning to me.

There's a knock on my door and I scurry out of bed to open it. Pete is standing there with a tray of coffee and something else bulging underneath a napkin. He's happy for me in regards to my relationship with Helena. He likes seeing me laugh and joke with him about women and relationships. In fact, he really likes to talk about women and relationships with me for some reason, so much so that I begin to think he hasn't had many people with whom he could discuss this sort of thing. Sure, he has to be reigned in occasionally, but it's good to have someone to talk to about all of this. Ever since the trip we took together to Boone and everything over the past couple weeks since my most recent trip, Pete has really stepped up and been there for me, been really attentive too.

"Hey hey hey. Breakfast is here." He walks over to the bed quickly to place the tray down. "Now, I don't normally do this, but you got an overnight package which I was instructed to open if you didn't get to it first."

"Oh?"

"Oh, is right because..."

He lifts the napkin off the plate and reveals to me a generous slice of warm coffee cake. There's a fork and napkin, even a cup of coffee for me. A quick look at the mug and this is altogether very familiar. I cover my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh and a grin when I realize why.

"What?" Pete questions with a grin.

I can't stop smiling. "Nothing." I reach over for the coffee cup and take a sip. "Thank you for making the coffee, Pete."

"What makes you think I didn't make this delicious coffee cake?" he says as he puts his hands on his hips.

"Because I know it's something of Helena's by its look, taste and smell."

"Sure you do." he retorts with a saucy grin.

We sit on the bed (I ensure Pete doesn't get crumbs in the corners of the comforter) and chat while eating the delicious cake Helena sent. We've been hanging out with each other a lot more and it's certainly helped me deal with everything that has been happening. When we drove away from Helena a few months ago, Pete knew that I hurt, he knew I had lied to her about being happy there with Nate and Adelaide. We have both had to deal with a lot of our past demons and coming to terms with our own truths: Pete is happy that Helena and I have accepted our own.

"Was there anything else in the box?"

"What, like that lacy thong and harness?"

"Wait, what?" It takes me an extra moment to realize that he's joking with me. Normally, I don't mind the teasing. I like it, even though I will completely shut down and call him out on the inappropriate comments whenever there are others around, Pete still makes me laugh.

"No, nothing else in the box." Pete chuckles and helps himself to some more cake. "Helena's a really good cook."

"I will tell her you said that." I smugly say, very proud of her.

"Great, maybe she can get on making some cookies and other goodies when she comes back. Speaking of which, when you going back to see her?"

"Tomorrow," I reply, "tomorrow's the big day." Meaning that I fly out there to pick her up from suburbia once and for all. Our plan has been to drive back rather than fly, so I'm anticipating a ten-hour car ride with her.

On our last visit, we discussed what we both want. After our rendez-vous at the lake, we sat together in the car and talked until the sun came up. No one bothered us and we were gone before the Sunday crowds came in for a day at the beach. We agreed that she would need a month to settle her affairs in Boone, get in touch with the Regents and, most difficult of all, break the news to Nate and Adelaide.

Putting in her notice at work and asking the Regents if she could come back were the simplest tasks. Nate was understanding, knowing that she once had a whole life out there to which she used to belong and, on some level, had always wanted to return. Apparently he didn't ask too many questions, and they both decided it would be best if she stayed until just before the start of the new school year so she could help Adelaide get everything ready for back-to-school. I knew that the toughest part of all this would be saying goodbye to Adelaide: she loves that little girl so much. Nate had also asked her to move into the guest bedroom, which Helena admitted, wasn't a problem considering we had christened it with happy memories.

"You going to be okay flying out there alone?"

"It's two short flights, I'll be perfectly fine."

"How about the drive back?"

"I've got Helena." I pause for a moment and take a sip of my coffee. For an unexplained reason, I smile until it dawns on me. "It feels really good to say that, Pete."

I spend the rest of the morning clearing up what will be our room. There's a pile of clothes in the middle of the bed that need to either be donated, tossed out or brought to the Warehouse for my emergency clothing locker. I even manage to get a couple drawers cleared out and pretty much all of the closet space reserved for her. I have nothing more than a few blazers and a dress hanging in there, I imagine Helena has much more than me that requires significant care and maintenance.

Good thing I am not flying out to Wisconsin every couple of weeks after tomorrow; I was able to put that money towards the massive, floor-to-ceiling, wooden bookcase for what will hopefully be our ever-growing library. Doing something as simple as buying a bookcase gives me peace of mind. It's the two of us, settling down and being together.

I walk into the bathroom to thoroughly clean everything: shower, sink, toilet and floor. All the surfaces are tidy and neat, free counter and cabinet space for Helena's items. I wonder if it'll be weird, doing this. When I get up in the morning, I will be seeing two toothbrushes, two hairbrushes, two towels, two bottles of shampoo. Maybe over time, the number of items will diminish to one tube of toothpaste or one bottle of shampoo, but for now it'll definitely something out-of-the-ordinary for me to experience. It's strange to be doing this for the first time in my life, preparing a space for someone to move into with me. It's weird, but somehow it feels right since it involves Helena.

The final thing I do is strip the bed to put on clean sheets and fluff the duvet. I make sure there are enough pillows of varying softness and firmness for her to choose. The nightstand on her side of the bed is emptied and cleared, light fixture cleaned and new coaster added to the top. Next to the bedside lamp on what will be Helena's side of the bed, I put up a small silver picture frame. I adjust it with a smile, hoping she'll like it.

* * *

I wearily trudge into the terminal and wander to the nearest coffee shop I can find. The coffee on the plane was nasty and definitely not a good as what I can get on the ground. I know that Helena and I will be getting coffee in a little bit, but for right now I really need something to jump start me. I'm lucky that this establishment has an extra-large beverage with which I can completely drown my weariness. Walking around with a backpack and giant coffee in my hands, I feel as though I look like hell. I feel terrible, but I know that in a very short time I will be with Helena and that will curb all ill feelings I have.

We agreed to meet at the house, meaning I pick up the rental car first then head on over there. She didn't mention what she is bringing along, but definitely I expect her to have a good amount of stuff after at least a year on her own. There are a few drivers and families standing at the edge of the security checkpoint with signs for their rides or loved ones. I keep walking, avoiding eye contact with people and focusing more on the ground when I see my name on a sign. Well, both our names.

I look up to see Helena standing there with a small piece of paper in her hand with a crossed out, typewritten "Wells & Bering" and then a properly written out (in a neat, handwritten cursive) "Bering & Wells." Once she spots me and our eyes lock, she lowers the sign and runs her fingers through her hair. That action is always her tell for when she's nervous.

Rounding the corner, away from all the others travelers, I walk over to her, holding her around her waist to pull her flush with my body and I simply raise an eyebrow at her. "Hi."

"Ready to save the world?" she offers.

"With you, always." I give her a quick peck on the cheek and look down at her feet. "I thought the plan was to pick you up at the house?"

"I know. I mean," Helena runs her fingers through her hair again, "I didn't want to make the goodbye there anymore painful than it actually was."

"I'm sorry it was difficult."

"Yes, well," Helena wipes a quick tear from her eye and does her best to compose herself with factual information regarding all of this, "it was the goodbye to Adelaide that was the most difficult. My farewell to Nate, of course, essentially occurred well before this morning."

I lean in to kiss her cheek one more time and whisper in her ear, "It's okay, I got you."

We hold each other like that until Helena calms down a bit. I know she's sad, that she is going to be be sad missing Adelaide (and Nate to some extent), but she knows that this is where she wants to be and where she has always wanted to be. My arms eventually relax around her and I look over my shoulder for luggage cart. Helena has a couple giant bags with wheels, not too heavy, but still cumbersome. I still expected her to have much more luggage. "One moment, let me get..." I dash away as I see a neglected cart by a cafe and push my coffee cup into her hand. I wheel back to her with an extra spring in my step and a smile.

"Thanks for getting a trolley."

"You did not just call that a trolley." I joke with an eye roll. Her arm extends to return the coffee to me to tend to the suitcase.

Helena grins as she places the first bag on the cart with a thud. "And you love me all the same." Reaching towards me once more, Helena takes the coffee back and she takes a sip of my drink, leaving behind the faintest tinge of lipstick residue on the rim. "You want something to eat?"

I place the second bag on the cart and then add my backpack on the top rack. "No, just eager to get on the road with you." Helena looks around, still drinking my coffee and watching me. She looks at me for a second; I'm unsure what's going through her head. I can tell that she is just a little bit nervous about all this, but I know that once we get out on the road we will be able to talk and reassure one another.

We head to the car rentals to pick up our vehicle for this road trip across three states. I've been looking forward to this for a couple of weeks now. It was a month ago that I took my last trip out here and since then, I haven't taken any time for myself. Keeping my mind occupied with work and readying my room for Helena has been challenging enough. We load the bags into the trunk and leave my backpack in the back seat as it contains my wallet, Tesla and other contraptions. Once everything is loaded into the car, I get in the driver's seat and Helena takes a seat next to me. She plugs her phone in as the GPS and sets it up along the dashboard with a weighted mount to keep it from sliding everywhere.

"Ready?" I ask.

Helena smiles at me and says, "Go Home" into her cell phone.

My heart melts just a little bit more with that. I lean over the center console and give her a long kiss before the drive begins.

Throughout the drive, Helena checks in with me every 30 minutes to see if I'm alright at the wheel. The car ride goes quickly, we chat about anything, occasionally getting flirtatious when Helena settles her hand between my legs and lets it wander in my lap. Not while I'm driving, I remind her, but she only smiles back at me with a saucy grin. We take our time, stopping for a leisurely lunch somewhere near Rochester and a few hours later, get out to stretch our legs again and get some more coffee.

We finally decided to stop in a rural town along the highway, it's peaceful and there's wilderness which is something we both enjoy. There's a small park and wooded area with a trail at this rest stop where we decide to wander for a few minutes after we pick up some coffee. It's private and shaded, significantly cooler than everything else surrounding us.

"I really want to shower." I say. "Think I smell bad."

Helena chuckles and pulls me towards her, sniffing me a little and wandering her hands lower to my back pockets. She pulls me closer and gently squeezes me through the fabric. "You smell perfectly fine."

"That's not using an 1890s London odor scale, is it?"

"No." she says with a laugh.

We remain in the woods for a good 15 minutes simply drinking our coffee sitting against a tree. The leaves are beginning to change shade. Not too much, but just enough to notice that fall is coming in a few weeks or so. Our legs are stretched out in front of us and we calmly sip our drinks. Even though it's hot out, the warm coffee hits the spot and is another of our fantastic coffee dates. When it starts to rain, we both look up to see clouds and grey skies. I love it. I love the cool water falling on me and breaking the heat (literal and figurative) even if it's just a little while. "You want to get back in the car?" Helena offers, wiping the rain away from her face.

"You keep asking me what I want." I realize after I say it, my tone sounds a bit harsh and I press my lips to her cheek in order to be more comforting and sweet. "What about you?"

Helena is quiet, realizing she has spent a good portion of the day asking what I would like to do while completely ignoring her own desires. Just one look and I can tell she is going to burst if she can't go any further. I watch the water trickle down her neck between her breasts and I do my best not to be entirely overcome with arousal looking at her like this. Besides, there's still another five hours in the car.

"I want you. All of you. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, in the rain, against a tree...don't care, really." Helena is completely overcome with hormones and looks as though she could devour me. She's not pushy about it, but there is definitely something more in her eyes. She flips me around to press my body against the tree instead. I lose my breath for a moment, only regaining it just before Helena captures my lips with her own. "I can't wait to get home."

We hold each other, our hands wander, our bodies heat up, our eyes and mouths explore. It's been nearly a month since we last saw one another and we crave physical contact. At some point, I have Helena pressed against a large tree, my thigh creeps between her legs and I apply the faintest bit of pressure each 15 seconds or so. Every 16 seconds elicits a low moan from her lips and a smile from my own. My hands end up around her neck, in her hair, tugging her lips further into my own.

* * *

When we get into Univille, it's after 11 pm. The downstairs lights are on, but the bedrooms seem dark. There's only Abigail's car in the driveway and everything around us seems quiet. As we pull in, Helena takes a deep breath, taking in the surroundings she hasn't seen in almost a year.

"C'mon," I encouragingly say with an outstretched hand, "let's go inside, clean up and go to bed. I don't think anyone's awake right now. We'll get the bags in the morning." I grab my backpack, not giving any thought to bringing Helena's items inside. We walk into a quiet house. On the dining table is a note from Claudia saying she, Pete and Steve got called out on a ping and would be back in a few days. Leaving Artie back at the Warehouse and Abigail upstairs in bed.

We quietly make our way upstairs, unsure if anyone is sleeping or just unwilling to greet us because it's late and they're just as tired. I lock the door behind us so we can't be disturbed and see Helena smile as she takes in the room around her. She immediately notices the empty nightstand, half-vacant dresser top, even the mostly empty closet when she opens the door to look inside.

"I cleared some space for you."

"Thanks."

She looks around a bit, taking in everything around her, and finally grips one of the bed's posters to swing around what she easily identifies as her side of the bed. For a brief moment, she pauses to see the silver picture frame next to the lamp. Helena says nothing, but looks at it and smiles before turning her attention back to me.

"I know it's not, you know, an entire house that we have to ourselves, but it's a space that is ours."

"That doesn't matter." Helena says as she removes her lightweight jacket. She then takes off her shoes and climbs up, smoothing the bedding around her that got mussed. I do the same and reach out for her; we silently lay in one another's arms. Helena's head rustles against her pillow, her nose collides with the pillowcase and she breathes in my scent all around her. I stop to wonder how long it will take for both our scents to mingle in this newly shared space of ours. "You think anyone will be stopping by this evening?"

I scoot myself closer, trailing my fingers along the buttons of her shirt. "No. It's late and I don't think they will be back tonight or early in the morning."

Helena shifts towards me, hands going to my waist and then the buttons of my jeans, her mouth moving ever closer to mine. "Good because I want you naked. Now."

I feel the top button of my jeans come undone and let out a gasp. Once Helena's mind is set to pleasure, we don't need to speak any further. Her hands are in a frenzy, pulling my shirt over my head, pushing down my pants. Helena's mouth connects to every part of my body with a tongue trailing my hips bone to lips sucking on my earlobe to teeth pulling at my nipples. I love it. I love how hungry for me she is. I love how eagerly my body responds to her touch. By the time my pants and shirt are on the floor, I'm lucky to have unbuttoned two of her shirt buttons.

I'm panting, I'm so turned on and am in a puddle which causes Helena to smirk once her hand is teasing inside my clothes. She doesn't tease long though. All I have been able to think about with Helena seated next to me throughout the drive is the thought of her pleasuring me. I have practically had nothing else on my mind since I saw her at the airport. She takes off my remaining clothes and tosses them to the side of the bed.

Helena gracefully rolls me onto the bed and pushes my legs up as she kneels before me. She kisses my calves, lifts my legs to kiss behind the knee and then pushes them back down so she can tease the insides of my thighs with her trailing tongue. My legs are spread wide open, exposing me to her. Her breasts touch the sides of my legs and make me quiver with the expectation of what's to come. "I haven't done this in more than a century, so forgive me if..."

I can't hear a word she is saying with her tongue on me like that. Besides, she would have definitely had me fooled that she hasn't done this in a while.

* * *

I'm up before Helena in the morning, barely able to open my eyes and completely comfortable nestled into her side. She rests in the crook of my arm, her mouth resting near my nipple, her hair lightly tickling the underside of my arm. I can feel myself fade in and out, something that is so easy to occur when we are together, sense her breathing in and out as she holds me. It's still early. I don't really want to move. Helena probably doesn't want to move, she's all content sleeping and relaxing. We're both home and happy.

Regardless, I tilt my head to see the time and it's still early. I'm hungry, Helena probably is too. I shift myself to face her, which in turn wakes her up.

"Hey." she says with eyes still shut.

"C'mon, let's get something to eat." I give her a quick kiss on the lips to help wake her up.

The two of us crawl out of bed. I walk to the dresser and pull out some clothes. Helena is standing there completely naked and looking for her clothes on the floor. I forget for a moment that all of her clean clothes are in suitcases in the car. Once I realize this, I reach back into the drawer to pull out some pyjama pants and a t-shirt.

"I forgot your clothes are in the car." I quickly pull on my clothes and walk over to her. "Here." I put the t-shirt over her head and smooth it down along the sides. Helena puts on the pants and wriggles her hips back and forth, finally shaking her legs to gather how long they are.

"A bit long."

"You'll be fine." I assure her and lean over to kiss Helena. As I open the bedroom door, all I get is a whiff of bacon. "Ooh," I say as I turn to her, "someone's cooking downstairs."

We descend the stairs and wander over to the kitchen.

"Pete!" Helena exclaims, heading over to the tousled man with a spatula in one hand and the other pressed against his stomach. Pete groggily turns around to face us and waves the spatula at us. He turns around to face us, looking absolutely exhausted but determined to make something to eat with the spatula in his hand. Helena walks over to give him a hug and happily wraps her arms around his waist, careful not to get any of the grease from the utensil on her clothes. Rather, my clothes.

Pete hugs her back and turns back towards the griddle once she lets go. He sounds so weary, but still minds his cooking. "When did you ladies get in?"

"Late, around 11 or so." I reply as I lean against a nearby counter. Helena walks over to me, pressing her back against me. It's comfortable and soothing being here with her like this and Pete cooking. "What about you?"

"Oh, me?" Pete looks over at the two of us holding each other and smiles. "I got home half an hour ago, but the others went out for breakfast though. I saw the rental and thought, what the hell, why not make something for the three of us."

"That's kind of you, Pete." Helena says. "Can we help?"

He looks around his work area and assesses everything. "Once I clear some of this bacon from the griddle, I can do two pancakes at a time. So, good for now!" Pete turns around once the bacon and pancakes have got to an "unsupervised" point. "You all settled in then?"

"Not yet. We got in late and didn't bring all of the stuff inside." I answer.

"You want me to get the bags out of the car?"

"Nah, we can manage it after breakfast."

"Myka, I don't think you'll be thinking about unpacking and luggage after breakfast."

"Pete!"

Helena chuckles, reaching for my hand. "Perhaps it would be best to take care of that now rather than later." She tilts her head back towards me with her lips next to my ear. "I'd prefer to not be disturbed, wouldn't you?"

I pause, not sure how to reply. Pete looks at Helena with a grin and motions towards the pancakes. He understands without a word. "Just flip them over -"

"- when they start to bubble." she finishes.

"Yeah, forgot for a second you've added 'accomplished chef' to your résumé."

Helena takes the spatula from Pete and I scurry out towards the car, stopping only to find a pair of shoes to put on. "Hey, Pete, come help me with the bags!" Pete joins me at the car and pulls out some of the bulkier suitcases. I'm happy, but sort of nervous about having the whole "family" together in one place for the first time in a very long time. Pete shifts over towards the front seats and finds at least five or six empty coffee cups.

"Do you have a trash bag somewhere?" I look around the back seat to see what is there and find an empty plastic bag underneath the seat. I toss it over to Pete who immediately starts filling it up with the containers. "You guys sure drink a ridiculous amount of coffee." he says as he shakes his head.


End file.
